


you, in a fight you lost

by PaddyWack



Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Other, Questionable Intentions, black being stalkish, clueless crewmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27367882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaddyWack/pseuds/PaddyWack
Summary: Red feels his stomach bottom out as Black continues to stare in silence."Please," he says hoarsely. "You have to believe me. I didn't do it."
Relationships: Black/Red (Among Us)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 194





	1. Chapter 1

Red draws a sharp breath and steps quietly back around the corner to lean against the wall, body drenching with sweat. He starts to quake beneath the heaviness of his suit and fights back rising nausea and a creeping darkness that threatens to obscure his vision.

  
What the fuck. What the _fuck_.

  
That was a bisected body. That had been _Yellow_ – 

  
Red slams his eyes shut behind the faceplate of his helmet and struggles to swallow back the strangled moan that bleeds from between his clenched teeth. He needs to do something. But what? Reporting dead bodies wasn’t part of _MIRA’s_ onboarding. 

  
He’d been brought on to fix _wires_ for Christ’s sake. 

  
A breathless, hysterical giggle bubbles past his lips, only to quickly transform into a pathetic whine of horror. Yellow is the third body in the last month – though it’s the first one that Red has stumbled across by himself. 

  
“How…what do I…” he pants, tightening his fists until they convulse at his sides. 

  
He wants to run. He _needs_ to run.

  
He turns to mindlessly flee back down the hall and makes it exactly three steps before slamming into another solid body. A firm hand wraps around his upper arm like a vice, painful even through the suit, and yanks him to a standstill.

  
He yelps and reflexively tries to wrench away. “Black?” he gasps, blind fear receding in the wake of overwhelming relief at having a senior authority present.

  
Black doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he considers Red quietly for a moment, which in itself isn’t strange since Red has noticed during his stint on the _Skeld_ that Black is a person of very few words, and even those few typically vague and monosyllabic. 

  
“It’s Yellow,” Red says breathlessly, half turning to point back down the hall. “I found her. She was...she’s dead.”

  
He can feel Black raising an eyebrow at him.

  
“I didn’t do it,” he says quickly. “I found her like that just before you got here, I swear.” 

  
He knows he’s acting suspicious, but there’s nothing to be done for it. Everyone started suspecting each other after the first body, and really it’s the only explanation for what’s happening – someone on board is a murderer. 

  
Red feels his stomach bottom out as Black continues to stare in silence.

  
“Please,” he says hoarsely. “You have to believe me. I didn’t do it.” Black’s hold on his arm tightens even more and Red flinches. Panic flutters like nervous wings inside his chest. After a long, tense silence, Black releases him with a sigh.

  
“Call it in,” Black says, crossing his arms over his chest. Red can see even through the spacesuit just how broad the other’s shoulders and chest are as the muscles pull against the neoprene-coated material. Considering how his arm felt like it was just about to snap in half, the sight doesn’t come as a surprise.

  
Red swallows past the dryness in his throat and presses the comm link. He pauses as the connection comes to life with a brief burst of static, and then, with a scratchy, weak voice, croaks, “I need to report a body.” 

* * *

  
They congregate in the cafeteria shortly after the call and Red imagines the others’ accusatory stares are drilling into him like knives. He fights the urge to flinch back and reluctantly joins the group huddled in the center of the room. He expects Black to put some distance between them – Red had been the one to discover the body and make the report, after all – but instead Black plants himself by his side as if nothing is amiss and Red nearly goes weak with gratitude.

  
(And if Black shifts his body slightly so he is positioned somewhat in front, as if facing off the accusers, neither of them acknowledge how Red sways closer in silent thanks.)

  
“Well?” Blue demands. “Who made the call?” 

  
“I did,” Red answers, shifting nervously on his feet. “I found Yellow in the hall between the Lower Engine room and Electrical.”

  
Pink tenses, sounding hopeful despite the obviousness of the situation. “Was she…?”

  
“She’s dead,” Black confirms, blunt and without inflection.

  
Blue turns their attention to Black. “You were there too?”

“Yes.”

  
Red cuts a look at him, startled. 

  
“And? Did you see anything?”

  
“I d-didn’t,” Red fumbles, cutting in and staring nervously at the reflective faceplate of Blue’s helmet. “I didn’t see anything weird. She was perfectly fine when I passed her going into Electrical a few minutes before, and when I left to refuel the engines, she was – was like that…”

Blue widens their stance and seems to focus on Black. “And you?”

  
“I was with him in Electrical,” Black responds, impassive. 

  
Again, Red glances at his crewmate uncertainly. While grateful to have someone corroborate his own whereabouts and help to clear his name, how does Black know for sure Red isn’t the killer? At this point, everybody is a suspect and Black should be as wary of Red as everybody else here.

  
“So neither of you saw anything?” Blue asks suspiciously, clearly sensing something to be off. 

  
Red opens his mouth to respond, only to be brought up short by Black answering for him again.

  
“No. We were doing tasks.”

  
“I thought you said at breakfast you were going to fix wiring in Security?” Green interrupts, helmet angled in Black’s direction.

  
Black tenses so minutely that even Red nearly misses the subtle shift. “You heard wrong. I said Storage. When I finished there, I followed Red into Electrical.”

  
Red doesn’t point out that he didn’t see Black in Storage on wiring when he passed through earlier. It wouldn’t be the first (or last) time he’d not been paying close enough attention to his surroundings. Maybe if he had, Yellow would still be alive.

  
Grimacing at that last thought, Red misses Green’s response and only comes back to the conversation when Blue puts their hands up, exasperated.

  
“Listen, we all need to be more careful. This is insane. We won’t reach port for another week and we all have to survive until then.” Blue looks around the room, lingering on each exhausted crewmate for added emphasis. “We use the buddy-system from now on. No more excuses. Someone – or something – is picking us off and each of us stands a better chance of facing it as a team, all right?” There is a chorus of half-hearted agreement before Blue continues. “Keep your eyes and ears open. We don’t know what we are facing and MIRA doesn’t have the resources to send back-up. We’re on our own.”

  
With this last grim reminder, the crewmates do their best to break off into groups of twos and threes. Green and Blue pair off to take care of Yellow’s body via the airlock. Everyone had wanted to preserve the bodies in the beginning somehow, but the _Skeld_ isn’t outfitted with cryostasis to help avoid decomposition, and no one had the heart (or stomach) to deal with rotting bodies onboard.

  
Red feels another surge of relief when Black doesn’t break off to partner with someone else and instead turns to look down at him expectantly. Red fidgets and glances around the room to make sure it’s empty before letting himself relax and rock back on his heels.

  
“Thanks for having my back.”

  
Black shrugs. 

  
“Er,” Red gestures between them self-consciously. “You didn’t have to stay with me. I know it’s frustrating being stuck with the newbie.” The _Skeld_ had been his first contract, and with how the entire experience is shaping out to be, Red is pretty certain it is going to be his last – one way or another. “I wouldn’t hold it against you if you decided to tag up with one of the other groups.”

  
Again, he gets the distinct feeling Black is raising a skeptical eyebrow.

  
Red groans. “I know how that sounds,” he admits. “Like I’m trying to get rid of you so I can go commit questionable acts, right?”

  
Black’s poignant silence is answer enough. 

  
“Yeah, well, if I were the killer, it’d probably work in my favor to have you as my partner so I could kill you all sneaky-beaky like and stuff you in some out-of-the-way storage closet without someone immediately raising the alarm,” he points out flippantly, only to quickly throw his hands up in defense, horrified. “Not that I would! Not at all! I mean – I’m not the killer, but if I _was_ , you should know I still wouldn’t kill you because you had my back and everything. So that’s – I mean. Hngh.” He slaps his hands against his helmet and heaves an explosive, strained sigh. “What I’m trying to say is you’re totally safe with me. And I appreciate you wanting to team up. That’s all.” His hands drop back down and he stares at Black’s impassive figure a little helplessly, hoping he hadn’t just ruined his one chance of a potential ally and friend.

  
The pregnant silence between them starts to grow uncomfortable. Red fidgets, contemplating escape routes. After what feels like an eternity, Black reaches up and grips him by the shoulder in a firm, steady hold; nothing like the hostile grip from before. 

  
“You’re safe with me too,” is all he says, squeezing Red’s shoulder once before letting go and turning toward the MedBay, presumably to finish their tasks.

  
Red blinks, surprised by the unexpected touch and a little embarrassed by how much he enjoyed it – however brief. Pleased with himself, he silently leaves the cafeteria and follows after.

* * *

  
Black isn’t sure why he didn’t deal with Red as soon as the pathetic human stumbled upon the other crewmate’s body. It certainly would have saved him a headache and would have gotten him one step closer to going home. At the very least, he should have framed the clueless man as the ship’s imposter and thrown suspicion off himself in the process. It worked flawlessly with Purple, after all.

  
But he hadn’t done either of those things, had he? Instead, he _vouched_ for the silly human, of all things. Lied for him and supported a false version of events. Practically staked a claim on him, if Black were being honest with himself. 

  
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. This will undoubtedly make its way back to the Council and they will demand an explanation for his actions. The problem is he doesn’t have one.

  
Black pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off the insistent ache in his skull. The others’ voices are a low hum in the cafeteria as they murmur over their dinner, glad to find each other alive after the events from earlier. His eyes slide over their faces without really seeing any of the details. Everyone has dressed down for the ‘evening’, losing the clunky headgear and most of their suits in the short walk from their beds to the cafeteria. 

  
Black finds the crew to be indistinguishable without their suits to tell them apart. He doesn’t bother trying to pick out specific features anymore, having quickly become bored with the effort at the beginning of their mission. His own body had been procured especially for him by the Council and he hadn’t cared to analyze its features any more than he had the others’. Humans are hairy, fleshy apes. There is nothing striking about that.

  
Rather – that _used_ to be the case.

  
He isn’t sure when it started, but at some point over the past six months he’s become aware that at a certain time every evening his eyes are drawn to the entry way of the cafeteria; expectant. He waits, quiet and patient, unconsciously counting down the seconds to arrival. He’s fairly certain Red isn’t even aware of just how predictable he is, or that Black tracks his movements across the room as if scoping prey. Perhaps that’s what caught his attention first – the utter lack of awareness, as if Red isn’t on a ship where dead bodies keep showing up like a particularly bad cough. The clueless innocence the young man exhibits is as intriguing as it is laughable. 

  
He watches Red take a tray of specially processed food and look around the tables, shoulders lifting just enough to express the lingering anxiety left over from the day’s interrogation. Black doesn’t move. When Red’s nervous eyes finally do land on him, off to the side, away from the others, Black is pleased to see the relief breaking across the human’s face as he automatically makes his way over.

  
“Hey,” Red greets. “Mind if I join you?”

  
Black, sitting with his arms crossed on the table and looking a little too alert, forces himself to relax and stop leaning so far forward. “Sure.”

  
“Thanks. You’re not eating?” Red glances around the empty table, curious as he takes a seat across from him. 

  
“Not hungry.”

  
Lie.

  
He is hungry – starving, in fact. 

  
But the carnal urge he feels won’t be sated by pre-packaged food that tastes like plastic.

  
“Oh.” Red fiddles with his fork and stares across the table at him. The man has absurdly curious eyes, Black thinks. Though they have been in close quarters for weeks now, this is the first time Black has been close enough to truly pay attention to the man’s features, that he’s _wanted_ to, and he finds the man’s eyes unexpectedly compelling. 

  
Is it normal for human’s to have such mixed variations of color like that? Shades of blue and green swirl together, flecked with a teasing hint of copper. Black feels a little put out that his own are just the same pale, flat yellow of his kind back home. Sort of boring in comparison, really.

  
“So,” Red starts, stirring around the mush on his tray. “Great work today with getting all of our tasks done. It goes a lot faster with two people.”

  
Black hums, noncommittal.

  
“Especially the samples,” he says around a mouthful of…whatever the hell that’s supposed to be. Meatloaf, Black thinks he read on the menu board – so, again, whatever that’s supposed to be. “I can’t figure out what all those readings are for, but White always seems grateful when we help her out with them.”

  
Black shrugs by way of response, caring very little for what interests White and even less about what the bizarre geneticist chooses to obsess over. Instead, he studies Red closely as the man eats his dinner, taking in the tightening of his jaw as he chews and the enthralling flex of his throat when he swallows. So delicate, Black muses. Nothing but soft muscle and fragile bone protecting the vital organs inside. Honestly, one well-placed claw-tipped finger and the life before him would be forfeit.

  
The thought makes his mouth water.

  
“I was checking what needs to be done for tomorrow,” Red chatters on, endearingly oblivious. “Doesn’t seem like much. Clean-up stuff, mostly. I was thinking we could start early and then have more downtime after. For like. I don’t know. Stuff.”

  
Black offers another ambiguous sound in return. 

  
Red’s mouth twitches, apparently amused by Black’s impassiveness. “You do that a lot.”

  
“What?”

  
Red grunts and shrugs a careless shoulder in imitation. “That,” he teases. “Like being uncommunicative is a whole mood all the time.”

  
“Isn’t it?”

  
“Sure,” Red concedes easily, tucking back into his meal. “I mean, the whole silent and brooding thing totally works for you.”

  
Black doesn’t respond right away, enjoying how the long stretch of uncomfortable silence transforms the innocence of the words into something more suggestive, and in turn darkens the color on Red’s cheeks to a nice flush. Black imagines what that heat would feel like under his hands – pleasant and warm as blood rushes to the surface. The thought has him running his tongue over his teeth behind tightly shut lips.

  
“Hey man, you sure you don’t want anything to eat?” Red jokes, shooting him a quick glance. He starts to frown a little with concern, the blush beginning to fade. “You look…”   
He doesn’t finish his sentence, though Black can see the nervousness in his kaleidoscope eyes. With a smirk that barely conceals unnaturally pointed teeth, Black reaches across the table and plucks Red’s cellophane-wrapped cookie from his tray.

  
“I prefer dessert,” he confesses, sounding bored despite the itch in his fingertips urging him to grab the young man before him and haul him away. 

  
Red grins in surprise, apparently not the least bit bothered by having part of his dinner stolen. Quite the opposite, actually, Black observes. The man seems grateful – like the familiarity of Black’s attention is a boon he didn’t expect to have dropped in his lap.

  
Black bites into the sweet even though it smells (and tastes) like cardboard.

  
Well, he muses, that goes for the both of them. 


	2. Chapter 2

With only a few days left before the _Skeld_ is scheduled to make port at the Polus Space Station, the crew starts to get antsy. The tension keeping everyone on edge is equal parts fear and anticipation, and does absolutely nothing to quell the short tempers that spark more and more as the clock winds down.

Red is grateful once again that Black chooses to stick around. Despite the man’s strangeness, his quiet company is oddly reassuring. He doesn’t say much, so Red fills the silence for the both of them as they go about performing their tasks. Black doesn’t seem to mind the stream of consciousness, and even contributes a little here and there with monotone quips that somehow still come across as surprisingly clever.

It’s still early when they finish what they’d been assigned for the day. Red had counted only ten sunrises and sunsets while they were cleaning out the chutes and transferring data, which meant it was barely the start of the evening.

“Making good time,” he says, planting his hands on his hips and regarding Black cheerily. The other’s helmet masks any and all reaction. “Feel like getting a bite to eat and maybe a game of cards later?”

“You have a deck of cards?”

Red fidgets. “Well. I mean. Sort of. They’re Uno cards,” he admits sheepishly. “But it’s the double-sided deck, so you can spice up the game a bit.”

“Of course,” Black answers dryly.

“If you have a better idea feel free to share,” Red sniffs haughtily. “Anything is better than sitting around biting our nails waiting to die or make port. I swear to god, it feels like everyone around here is about to claw out of their own skins.”

Black angles his head inquisitively and Red shrugs in response. “I mean, don’t they? I get it, obviously. Still. Having a distraction every now and then to take your mind off it all seems like it’d help you stay sane way better than agonizing over it, right?”

He stares at Black expectantly, hoping the other man understands where he’s coming from. He can’t be the only one on this ship wanting to escape from his own dark thoughts. Despite the rest of the crew’s seeming ability to handle the situation with near-clinical efficiency and a stiff neck, Red doesn’t believe for a second they aren’t close to losing their minds over the murders.

“Seems reasonable,” Black concedes.

“Exactly,” he nods, emphatic. “So. Hungry?”

* * *

The only other crew members in the Cafeteria are Green and Orange, though a few trays holding half-eaten meals scattered around the tables prove the others have probably finished their main tasks and are enjoying some off-duty time as well. With it being Sunday and so close to drop day, there isn’t much left to be done other than daily maintenance.

Red skips the beef stroganoff option and picks up two small plates with slices of key lime pie instead.

“Grab a couple of forks and follow me,” he says over his shoulder to Black, skirting around the edge of the room and into the hall near Admin. He’d considered for a brief moment trying to join Green and Orange’s conversation, but quickly dismissed the idea. Red hadn’t been close with anyone the entire deployment except Black, and that only recently. Trying to force the camaraderie now, right at the end when any abnormal behavior (friendly or otherwise) is an immediate cause for suspicion, would only add to the impossible stress weighing on everyone.

Black, with his weird silence and solid presence, is somehow the only exception to that.

Red waits for Black to reappear with forks in hand before leading him into Admin and putting the plates next to each other on the holographic table. He removes his helmet and unzips his suit, pushing the bulky material down to his hips and tying it off with the sleeves. Black seems to hesitate for a moment before stepping forward and placing the forks with the plates.

“Too crowded in there for you?”

Red wrinkles his nose with a deprecating grin as he pulls a couple of chairs over from the stations. “Maybe. Feels awkward trying to be social with people outside of our groups just now with everything going on, you know?”

Black shrugs by way of response and reaches up to remove his helmet and the top half of his suit, mirroring Red by tying off the sleeves around his waist.

Much like the night before (and the few times over the course of their mission Black had dressed down), Red struggles not to stare. Most men who look like that know it. They know and flaunt it and walk around with this self-assured air about themselves, confident they could have anyone they wanted without ever having to ask; willing partners simply throw themselves at their feet.

Somehow, this doesn’t fit Black. The man seems totally oblivious to his own allure – or else he’s one hell of an actor.

Red pretends to focus on his pie while he sneaks a few glances at Black, taking in the cut jawline and perfectly shaped mouth. Even the guy’s nose is perfect – strong and proportional in relation to the rest of his face. His disturbing yellow eyes glow like lamps in the dim green light of the holo-map. Those have to be contacts, right? They can’t seriously be real.

Even his helmet hair looks intentionally styled, mussed just enough to make you want to run your fingers through the short, dark strands and hold on tight. Red feels self-conscious all of a sudden and quickly tries to flatten his own dirty blonde mop that’s undoubtedly sticking up every which way like he’s spent the entire work day standing in a wind tunnel.

He freezes when Black’s hand knocks his own away, pushing fingers into his hair and messing it right back up again.

“Looks better this way,” Black affirms, though it sounds oddly like an order to Red’s ears.

He tries to laugh it off, hoping it doesn’t sound as shrill as it does to his own ears. “Thanks – there’s no taming it anyway.”

Black takes a seat beside him and begins cutting his slice of pie into small, bite-sized pieces with his fork, each piece separated with deliberate, methodical precision. Red watches him, curiously amused, and eats his own dessert in three large bites. 

Black glances over at him and snorts.

“I’m an animal, I know,” Red agrees, licking a bit of cool whip from the corner of his mouth.

To his surprise, Black follows the small movement with eagle eyes, gaze heavy and heated when it meets Red’s a moment later. The look sends a shock of liquid heat straight to Red’s belly.

Well. Okay. Space – he needs space. Preferably now.

Coughing into his fist to hide the sudden warmth in his cheeks, Red pushes his plate off to the side and quickly stands to busy himself with pilfering through the desks along the back wall. Outside of completing a few scans now and then he hadn’t spent much time in Admin, though he knew for a fact that, along with the Uno cards, Lime also had a stash in here somewhere. Now felt like an opportune time to take advantage of that.

Eventually he finds what he’s looking for: a mostly-full bottle of unmarked, sloshing dark liquid and the Uno deck wrapped with a rubber band. He turns and holds both up triumphantly, nearly hiccupping to find Black standing _right. There_. Jesus.

“Uh. F-Found it,” he explains needlessly, recovering with a sidestep back to the table.

Black follows, keeping the respectful distance between them as he goes back to his seat with the now-empty dessert plate.

“What is ‘it’ exactly?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at the bottle.

“Lime’s special brew,” Red divulges. “I never got a chance to ask him how he made it.” Lime had been the first body. They found him in Navigation hidden behind the control seat; they weren’t sure how long he’d been there. Rigor mortis had well and truly set in by the time they’d discovered the body.

Red grimaces and shakes his head to dispel the memory. Distraction. That’s why they’re here right now exploiting Lime’s alcohol addiction. Taking his seat again, he gives the bottle an inviting wiggle.

“Anyway – not like he’s here to enjoy it anymore. It’d be a shame to let it go to waste. How about it?”

Black waves a hand lazily in his direction. “By all means.”

“Don’t be a stick in the mud,” Red teases good naturedly, uncapping the bottle and taking a generous swig. Pure fire pours down his throat, scorching with a vengeance and leaving him gasping as his eyes begin to water. “Oh shit,” he gags, pushing the bottle into Black’s reluctant hands. He suddenly regrets not having the foresight to have a chaser handy.

“Would you like some water?”

The question absolutely drips with sarcasm. Red barks a hoarse laugh despite himself, shaking his head and rubbing the tears from his eyes as he straightens in his seat.

“Jesus, if the murderer hadn’t taken him out, that sure as hell would,” he gasps, already feeling a little dizzy. Whether it’s from the alcohol or lack of oxygen is up for debate.

“Where you two close?” Black wonders, seemingly offhand as he inspects the bottle.

“Not really,” Red grunts. “I mean, we got drunk one night and fooled around, but that’s about it.” He avoids looking directly at Black and shrugs at the unspoken question. “Bored. Lonely. Take your pick. It was one time and I don’t think we spoke another word to each other again before he died.” Black hums thoughtfully in response and Red can feel his lamp-like eyes boring into his skull.

Belatedly, he remembers the deck of cards and plucks the rubber band with a fingernail. “Anyway, we’re here to play a game, right? Leave the dark and depressing at the door. It’ll keep until tomorrow.”

Black gives him an appraising look as if he’s considering whether or not to push, but then lifts an indifferent shoulder and takes a deep swallow from the bottle without batting an eye.

“All right,” he purrs, flashing a bit of teeth. Red swallows reflexively, thrown by the sudden feeling of alarm that tingles down his spine. “Let’s play a game.”

* * *

Perhaps Black shouldn’t toy with the human so much. There’s a saying about that, he’s certain, about playing with one’s food, though he doesn’t necessarily see the point of it. Why deny yourself such pleasure? Besides, he doesn’t believe he could resist such temptation if he tried. Not with Red.

“Okay,” Red begins, voice only slightly uneven. “I’ll deal. You know how to play?”

Black nods even though he really doesn’t, assured that, like most human practices, he will pick it up easily enough within the first few minutes. He leans back and watches Red deal out seven cards for each of them and place the rest of the deck on the table.

“I’ll start,” the man offers, and flips the top card from the deck to the table, revealing blue. “And if you don’t have the matching color, you drink.”

“All right,” Black agrees, amused as he flicks his own blue card on top and cocks an eyebrow when Red’s face immediately falls.

“I was kind of hoping it’d be you first,” Red mutters as he takes the bottle for another swallow, grimacing and obviously fighting the urge to gag as he does.

Black smirks and relaxes even further into his seat, stretching out one leg to bracket Red in against the table. “Sorry to disappoint,” he teases, catching the glance Red throws down at his leg and noting the second of stillness as the man registers he’s trapped. A thrill runs through him as Red seems to accept this rather than try and get away or put more distance between them.

Such a wonderfully willing prey, he thinks, watching the man squirm just a little in his new cage.

“So, uh, what are you looking forward to the most when we get to Polus?” Red babbles, chewing his lip as he draws a card and Black adds another blue one to the pile.

“Books,” he admits easily, reassessing his hand when Red’s next play makes it obvious that the card color doesn’t have to match if the numbers are the same. Polus doesn’t have a large selection of reading material, but the station offers more than what’s on the _Skeld_ and plenty of interesting options on human behavior.

“You like to read?”

He hums in the affirmative as he reaches for the bottle and takes a drink, smirking slyly around the rim. “Does that surprise you?”

Red considers him for a moment as Black draws a card, his own grin a little loose as the strong buzz starts to kick in. “No, not really,” he admits finally. “Though how you can drink that with a straight face sure does.”

Black shrugs, knowing it would be pointless to try and explain how his body immediately burns at least 75 percent of the alcohol before it can be processed, and that he’s tasted far worse things than aged, fermented grains. It would only spook the poor man, and Black isn’t finished playing yet.

In fact, he’s barely begun.

“Your turn,” he says instead, and they resume the game.

Not too much later, Red is flushed and leaning forward slightly, staring at his cards with careful consideration. He isn’t drunk, Black can sense that much, but he is unquestionably tipsy and Black himself is feeling pleasantly buzzed.

The card game had long veered off into something entirely its own as Red’s cards got progressively worse and his attention span wandered. Black stopped paying attention to the rules and put down whatever card he felt like, arguing innocence whenever Red would point it out.

During the banter, Black props his foot on the edge of Red’s chair and Red’s hand decides it would make an acceptable resting place. Black leers at him in return and feels smug approval when Red’s response is to tighten his grip around Black’s ankle. 

Honestly, how is he not supposed to encourage that sort of behavior?

A charged silence settles between them. Black is content to let it drag on, unfurling like a live thing in that short distance separating the V of his legs from Red’s tense, bouncing knees. He studies the man’s nervous twitching with clinical amusement, patiently waiting for that tenuous self-discipline to crack.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Red’s throat bobs as he swallows and his fingers flex anxiously around Black’s ankle again. Hesitating at first, he stands slowly and leaves his cards forgotten on the table. With one achingly cautious step, he puts himself right between Black’s legs, his knees now digging into the seat of Black’s chair.

Doubt and nerves have the man skittish, so Black doesn’t touch him immediately. Instead, he tips his head back against the headrest with an encouraging sound, trying to appear calm despite his fingers digging into the arms of his chair with impatience. He can hear the fabric creaking in protest.

Red’s eyes jump between his own, seeking some kind of confirmation or maybe a reassurance hidden there. Black squeezes his thighs together just slightly, rocking Red further forward into that invisible barrier of personal space. Taking that as the encouragement he needs, he curls forward and balances his weight on the armrests, bringing their faces so close Black can feel his warm breath puffing against his skin.

This close, Red’s eyes are so clear and so fascinating that Black is momentarily stunned. The strange color combination suddenly hits him with bittersweet familiarity and he has to breathe in, slow and even, to keep from surging forward. Dazzling blue melts into a ring of glittering green, shot through with pulses of rust and tawny gold. They dance anxiously under his unwavering stare, looking so much like the remnants of a star violently erupting into space as it dies, throwing flashes of brilliant light out into the black, endless void surrounding it. A star, a planet, a home – decimated and yet still beautiful even in death.

Black shuts his eyes for just a moment, a brief, fleeting second, and opens them again. So many planets – so many homes – he has witnessed disappearing with this final performance. Never did he guess such a sight would one day entice and tempt him in this way.

He doesn’t recall moving, but when he feels Red trembling beneath his touch he becomes aware that his hands are pushing beneath the thin undershirt Red wears to grip him by the hips, firm and insistent beneath the bulky material of his suit tied at the waist. Black had hoped to have the man eating from the palm of his hands by now, but judging by the sudden visceral need he feels burning inside his own chest, such frivolous desires will have to wait. 

Emboldened, Red takes the initiative and presses their mouths together. Black is not altogether clueless, though he hasn’t engaged in kissing before now. At least, not in the human sense. He’s read and observed enough to understand, and is quick to match Red’s slow, unsure pace with one that is practiced, confident, and consuming. He smiles against Red’s mouth when this response elicits a quiet moan eager for more.

Despite being something altogether Other, engaging in sexual relations is far from foreign and something Black has enjoyed in the past. His kind manage it quite differently of course, but the logistics of the affair are about the same. Despite extensive study and research of the human body, however, Black hadn’t experienced any of the described urges during his time among humans before – not until this particular mission. Not until his eyes landed on this helpless, moon-eyed human that eagerly straddles his lap now and pushes close with an edge of desperation.

No. This is new, and Black is keen to enjoy it.

He teasingly kneads Red’s hips with hungry hands before pushing down past the suit and underclothes to grip two handfuls of soft, warm flesh. Red arches at the touch, grinding down against Black’s lap and breaking the kiss with a groan. He tips his head to the side to breathe, eyes dazed and fever-bright, and Black takes advantage of the opening to sink his teeth into the teasingly exposed throat just begging to be marked. Red bucks against him with a ragged sound that goes straight to Black’s dick, now swollen and straining against the restrictive fabric of the suit.

He grins darkly, laving at the bite mark with his tongue. Nothing he had read or experienced about humanity could compare to this feeling – this maddening urge _aching_ throughout his entire body. He wants to claim, in every sense of the word, the trembling human in his lap, to be inside him and devour every inch he can get his hands and mouth on and lose himself in those galaxy eyes.

With a sound that is not altogether human, he tightens his arms around Red and stands, lifting Red easily and turning them so the man is sitting on the edge of the holo-map table with Black firmly pressed between his spread legs. Red starts to stammer something, but Black cuts him off with a possessive kiss as his hands make short work of the suit sleeves restricting access to the rest of his delicious body.

He could do this forever, Black thinks, licking into Red’s eager, responsive mouth. He wants, _needs_ , and is altogether more than happy to oblige these new urges.

It seems only fitting that the universe would deny him that.

* * *

It should have been apparent the moment he and Red had come through the Cafeteria. In retrospect, it doesn’t take a genius to guess what was going to happen, of course, but excuse him for assuming Orange wouldn’t be so fucking obvious about the whole thing.

They hear the screaming first, followed quickly by a series of crashes and the pounding of running feet. The alarm starts blaring soon after and Red flinches away so violently they both nearly topple over. Black has to bite back a growl and force his hands to keep from yanking Red back to him.

The man’s eyes are impossibly wide as they stare at him. “What…”

Black shakes his head. “I don’t know.” Though he thinks that he might.

He quickly steps back and pulls Red off the table and back on his feet, resisting the urge to finish what they started as he drags his eyes over the absolutely wrecked state of the young man in front of him. How very disappointing to leave it like this.

“Come on,” he growls, reluctant but knowing the interruption isn’t going to just disappear. They right themselves and step into the hallway just as Pink and Cyan come rushing from Storage.

“What is it? Who hit the Emergency call?” Cyan shouts above the alarm.

White points to the Cafeteria where the crashes and screams are coming from. Black bites hard on his tongue to keep from swearing. As a group, they quickly turn and run toward the sounds, bursting into the room just as the rest of the crew come running in from the other doors. In the center of the Cafeteria, Orange is still holding Green’s lifeless body in the air.

The screaming has stopped, though the alarm continues to screech as everyone stares at Orange in silence. Only a few crewmates are as dressed down as Red and himself (though not nearly as ravaged looking). He can see the absolute horror on the faces of those without helmets, can practically feel their stunned disbelief at the scene before them. It’s one thing to stumble across a body already grown cold; it’s another thing entirely to see it still twitching in death while the murderer stands covered in fresh blood. 

Black fists his hands at his sides and glares at Orange so fiercely it’s a wonder the other doesn’t burst into flames on the spot.

“What is that? It’s coming from his chest!” Pink shrieks. All eyes are drawn to the pulsating cavity at Orange’s midsection. The maw is surrounded by gruesome teeth and wet, agitated appendages. A long, thin pike has shot from the center and pierced straight through Green’s faceplate, keeping him suspended by presumably nothing but his skull. 

The next few moments are absolute chaos.

Black is incensed when he loses Red in the mayhem. A few members of the crew rush Orange at once, and it is only because they have the upper hand in numbers that they manage to overwhelm the thing at all. White is flung off to the side, unhurt but a little dazed, while Orange is pinned to the floor and held down. Green’s body flops and rolls like a puppet whose strings have suddenly been cut.

Between the flurry of limbs, Black catches Orange’s fixed stare through the cracked faceplate of its helmet. Four large eyes the color of spoiled milk, cloudy and without pupils, look back at him, bewildered by the sudden flurry of activity.

…Shit.

Orange is only a simple creature from a lesser race, it isn’t capable of comprehending the consequences of actions. It’s brain functions on the most provincial of levels, and right now it is looking to its handler to bring order to this otherwise unorderly situation.

Which is exactly what Black is meant to do – what his kind has been charged with doing for these types of missions. The Council had deemed it so when the wars began a millennia ago, and refugees from dying races were drafted to keep order. Black has done this a million times on a hundred different planets. He knows his duty. He knows his orders.

And yet.

“What do we do?”

“Just keep holding it down!”

“The airlock! We have to throw it out the airlock!”

“It’s going to kill us!”

The crew’s frantic voices sound like static as they mesh together and, combined with the piercing wail of the emergency alarm still bouncing off the walls, nearly deafen Black as he looks away from Orange as it continues to struggle.

On the other side of the room, he sees Red crouched by White’s huddled body. The man’s eyes are wild, petrified, as he watches the scene before him. Even from this distance, Black can imagine how the man’s pulse is skittering through his veins and body wracking with tremors. It rankles, seeing that fear. Seeing this human – _his_ human, _his_ pet – stricken by some other living thing besides himself.

The indignity of it makes his gums itch. To be outdone by this sniveling, simple-minded lump of flesh at his feet? This cannon fodder his people are leashed to at the whim of the Council? Anger lances through him like a hot flash, searing with outraged jealousy. There is only one monster in this impossibly vast universe that Red should fear, and this worthless, miserable creature is but one pitiful speck of cosmic dust beneath Black’s boot. 

Orange grows still as it senses Black’s displeasure and curls slightly away with a warbling, confused whine.

Black’s mouth twists with disgust. Well, there’s really only one thing to be done.

He steps toward Orange, knowing the wretched grunt won’t resist its master, and feigns assistance in holding the thing down so he can get his hands on it. He can’t remember what Orange’s species call themselves, only that they are multiple and capable of grotesque cellular mutations. He doesn’t even know how old this one is, and he doesn’t much care. The thing is a burden now that it’s been exposed and, once something is no longer useful, there’s no point in keeping it around.

“Hurry, it’s stopped fighting,” he shouts at the others, voice cutting through their senseless wailing. “Get it to the chute!”

He doesn’t wait for them to react before he hauls Orange upright and drags it to the far wall where the trash chute waits. Without having to be told what to do, Blue runs for the door and yanks open the yawning metal mouth.

The others seem to come to their senses and fall on Orange again, shoving and kicking and forcing the wriggling body into the large cavity. Black pushes his way to the front and gets one last look at the helpless, perplexed creature right before he slams the door and pulls the lever to dump the load into the lower facilities.

“You,” he snaps, looking over at Brown. “Release the lever in Storage before it claws its way back out.”

Brown nods once before taking off, Cyan hot on their heels. Within seconds, a gentle shudder passes through the _Skeld_ as the garbage hub is deposited into open space – along with Orange’s flash-frozen, oxygen-depraved corpse.

Black rubs the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut as he attempts to reign in the frustration still boiling just beneath the surface. “Someone cut that fucking alarm.”

A moment later blessed quiet finally swallows the room. Ears still ringing, he looks up at the strung-out, frenzied crew standing around him in a loose circle. They glance at each other as if they can’t trust their own eyes anymore, speechless and frozen in place.

Blue seems to recover first and steps forward. With a voice just the side of cracking, he asks, “Is everyone okay?”

The spell broken, White bursts into hysterical sobs and Brown slowly takes a seat at one of the tables. Pink and Cyan lean heavily against each other, propping themselves up. Off to the side, Red remains standing, albeit a little pale, and sways on his feet.

Black fights the urge to sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop. Got lost in the lore. More heavy petting in the final chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

He isn’t avoiding Black.

Honestly, he’s not.

But he can definitely see how it might look that way, considering he’s currently hiding under one the cots in Medbay holding his breath and trying _really_ hard not to make a sound. This is just his way of coping with everything at the moment. The situation with Orange a few days ago really messed with the crew and it’s understandable if he or any of the others need some time alone to process.

So that’s what he’s doing. Processing. Coming to terms with the fact that there are psycho fucking aliens in space that can look human but aren’t and can split in half with a goddamn sword coming out of their belly-mouths.

But that’s not all, not by a long shot. Blue had kindly informed them _MIRA_ is already on the up-and-up with these things. Apparently they’ve known for a while. Crews are deployed on scouting missions for gathering information and, yeah, sometimes an imposter or two manages to get in and they have to deal with that, it’s part of their contract.

Which is true, Blue showed it to him. Paragraph 3.1.643, final bullet: “In the event that the safety of the ship is compromised, personnel are required to dispatch appropriate response measures”. Admittedly vague, sure, but according to Blue it has to be vague otherwise _MIRA_ loses funding and everyone loses their jobs.

So apparently Red can add Alien Exterminator to his resume – except he can’t, because all of this is Top Secret and the Men in Black will kill him in his sleep and make it look like an unfortunate accident if he talks.

Honestly, Red can accept all of that. He really can. Aliens? Sure. Lying corporations backed by a corrupt government? Obviously – when are they not? So, yeah, he can get over them. Eventually. With therapy.

(lots of therapy)

What he can’t get over is the crushing embarrassment that eats at him from the inside from having drunkenly thrown himself full throttle at someone he well and truly liked as if he were a dog in heat. _That,_ oddly enough, is higher than aliens and monsters on Red’s list of _Things That Will Fuck Me Up_. Who knew.

Maybe he is avoiding Black, but only a little bit and only until Black forgets how Red got a little drunk and practically dry humped him in Admin. That shouldn’t take long right? Only about three nevers. And Red is completely fine with waiting that out right here under the bed. Where it’s safe.

“You’re still under there? It’s been two hours.”

Red snaps his eyes open and looks at his own reflection in Cyan’s faceplate. “I said I’m processing!”

“Yeah, well, someone needs to fix Comms.”

“But I’m not an electrical engineer.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Cyan stands and leaves the room, ignoring Red’s continued protests as he pulls himself out from his hiding spot.

Irritated, he sits on the bed and roughly scrubs at his face with his hands, groaning. He can probably still avoid Black as long as he keeps a careful lookout, but considering how nonexistent his situational awareness is the chances of accomplishing that are very low. Besides, it’s a small ship. He knows he’s going to bump into Black eventually.

And when he does, Red will have to apologize somehow, give the other man an out by saying they were both drunk and laugh it off and carry on, because Black might’ve responded the way he did out of pity or because he didn’t know what else to do with a lap full of drunk and horny in the moment. Which hurts, of course, but Red can understand and accept that. He doesn’t want to, but he will.

With another groan, he gets up and heads out into the hallway. He doesn’t bother pulling on his suit. Drop day is tomorrow and regulations have gotten lax, so he keeps on the clothes he’d worked out in earlier - a simple gray shirt and basketball shorts. Brown is in the Cafeteria and wearing about the same, picking at the meager options they have for lunch. They both give the spot where Green died a very wide berth.

He doesn’t run into Black on his way to Comms, which is a relief. A feeling that, as it turns out, has a very short life span when he enters the small claustrophobic room and spots Black standing by the console staring at it with a look of detached boredom, arms crossed.

Red freezes in the doorway. Part of him considers bolting in the opposite direction. It won’t be a seamless exit, but it will at least be quick. He thinks he would do it too, if Black hadn’t already noticed him standing there like an idiot.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Red says awkwardly, wincing. “I, uh, didn’t expect to see you.”

Black slowly raises an eyebrow in response. He’s dressed down as well, though he’s wearing his suit and has it tied off at the waist again rather than relaxing in civilian clothes like Red and most of the others. 

He clears his throat and steps the rest of the way into the room. “See something interesting?”

A smirk curls the edge of Black’s mouth, small and suggestive. “Yes,” he answers, pointed.

Red had meant the Comms equipment, but of course Black’s leer leaves no room for mistaking what _he_ meant. “…Right,” Red mumbles, feeling his face darken at the comment. That’s a good sign right?

He quickly moves to the table to fiddle uselessly with the dials, decidedly _not_ letting his eyes wander over Black’s exposed arms and how his shirt pulls just tight enough to see firm stomach muscles beneath. He is a grown man. He can control himself. Except that he can’t – he definitely was not controlling himself the last time they were alone in a room together and he is having a decidedly difficult time even now. Shit.

Red bites his lip. He just needs to get this over with. Apologize and rip the band-aid off already. So what if Black kissed him back out of pity? Red thoroughly enjoyed it and that’s fine. If Black ever wants to feel sorry for him again then Red will be more than willing to oblige, but at least establish and settle this first.

“All right,” he starts, turning around to give Black his full attention. “About the – “

He doesn’t finish his sentence, and he honestly isn’t that bothered about it. Not when Black is suddenly there, hands on either side of Red’s face to keep him from getting away, and dominating him with a kiss that nearly wrecks him from the get go. Red gasps sharply and slams his eyes shut, convinced this is just his imagination and not wanting to ruin it by looking at it too long. Black takes the opportunity to lick into his open mouth and walk them backwards until Red is held firmly against a wall by the desk.

There is a sliver of shame in Red as he realizes just how he easy he truly is, though it’s quickly forgotten as Black slips a knee between his thighs and _presses._ Any higher brain function is ground to a complete and absolute halt as all the blood in his body rushes south and leaves him reeling dizzily in its wake.

* * *

The kiss is messy and overeager, more teeth than anything else, though Black is far from complaining. The silly human has been hiding from him, the reasons for which are hardly worth entertaining, Black is sure, so he isn’t going to, not when those reasons can be resolved by getting the human undressed and on his knees as quickly as possible. After the way they left things in Admin, Black is more keen on picking it back up as quickly as possible, and having Red stumble right into his hands without any effort is just icing on the cake, really.

Black pulls away so he can watch Red moan helplessly as he grinds the heel of his palm against the growing bulge between the man’s legs.

“Christ,” Red chokes, head thunking back against the wall as his eyelids flutter. Black presses even closer, taking advantage of that exposed neck to delicately lick over the bruise he’d left before and smirking when Red shudders against him in response.

“S-So I guess we’re doing this?” Red manages to ask, unable to keep himself from bucking into the firm grip.

Black hums thoughtfully, fisting his free hand into Red’s short, messy hair and holding him still. “Would you rather not?”

“Yes. I mean, no,” Red stammers, reaching out for Black’s arms and holding tight. “Just wanting to make sure we’re on the same page is all,” he explains quickly. “Um – soberly.”

Black scoffs and kisses the man again, insistent. It’s amusing to think the question of dubious consent would be the reason Red had been skirting around him for the better part of three days and surprisingly not the whole ‘you’re not alone in the universe’ bombshell. The sheer fragility of being human still surprises Black sometimes. He’d reveled in it in the past, since it made breaking them so very easy and missions much faster for it, but now it makes him wonder about them. They know death can come quickly, yet they doggedly continue living and show no lack of courage. It’s as if mortality is so well-known a companion that they embrace it easily.

“Such a gentleman,” Black purrs, switching his hands to drag up and down Red’s sides reassuringly, smirking wider as the man whines at the loss of contact. He steps away fully after a moment, appreciating the view of Red’s obvious state of arousal and how he looks both eager and confused by Black’s sudden distance.

“What…”

“I don’t care to be interrupted twice,” he explains, crossing the room in two strides and firmly shutting and locking the door. He doesn’t add that even if someone were to drop dead right this moment he isn’t allowing Red to escape until Black is well and truly finished with him. The Earth could be imploding – he doesn’t really care. Not that he would anyway under normal circumstances considering it isn’t _his_ home planet, but whatever. Semantics.

“Oh,” Red answers intelligently, swallowing visibly as Black prowls back across the room and boxes him in against the desk.

“Oh,” Black agrees, making short work of the thin shirt Red is wearing and tosses it to the ground. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of the man’s flushed and panting chest, feeling his own body heating up in response.

Not for the first time since tangling with his human, Black marvels at the complexity and sensitivity of the human body. His kind are a parasitic species. They require a host in order to survive. Black has taken root in many different bodies, many different species, but none have proven to be as visceral in its physiological propensities as human beings. The flood of sensation leaves him feeling a little lightheaded, honestly. 

Like the other night, his nerve endings light up at the touch of Red’s skin under his palms. He traces his thumb along the fragile line of Red’s windpipe, gently circling his throat as his free hand plunges past the flimsy waistline of the man’s shorts and underwear and wraps around the thickening length he finds there.

Red groans, guttural and eager for more. The strokes are tight and quick, more for eliciting cut-off, ragged whimpers and bucking hips than steering toward any true release. Black feels nervous hands plucking uncertainly at his own clothes. He obliges by quickly shucking the nondescript shirt he’d been wearing to the ground and allows Red to untie the sleeves around his waist just enough to free his own swelling dick from the confines of his suit.

An incredulous chuckle trips out of his mouth, surprised and delighted at the same time as Red drops hungrily to his knees. Such behavior should be rewarded. Black inclines his head, giving permission to a questioning look from Red, and carefully releases a heavy breath through his nose as the heat of the man’s mouth surrounds him.

The sensation is beyond words. The hot slide of a tongue around his cockhead punches a grunt out of him and he fists a hand in Red’s already wrecked hair to stay grounded. The obscene noises Red makes as he begins bobbing his head sends shivering pulses of undulating pleasure through his stomach. Hands bracket his hips and Red continues sucking, hard, long draws with a wicked tongue tracing the thick vein running along the underside of his cock.

It takes a surprising amount of control not to jackknife into that wet heat. Red seems to sense his restraint and indulges him by sliding down, down, down until Black feels the man’s throat fluttering around him as he swallows, hitching and squeezing as his gag reflex begs for mercy. A glutton for punishment it seems, his human. The thought makes Black groan as Red slowly backs off to gasp for air.

He doesn’t give Red much time to recover before he’s pulling him to his feet and bending him over the desk, shoving the equipment to the side to make more room. He curls over Red’s back, unable to stop his hips from snapping forward as Red arches and presses back.

“Done this before?” he growls, gripping himself and tracing his leaking dick against Red’s clothed backside.

Red squirms. “Yes,” he answers quickly, voice cracking. “So you don’t…you don’t have to be gentle.”

Black hums, a sound full of amusement. He wants to take his time. He wants to spend slow, agonizing minutes opening Red up and teasing him to the brink of orgasm again and again, working him over with unerring accuracy until he’s certain the poor human will go mad with it. He wants to see the increasing desperation as pleasure builds and builds, but is never allowed to topple over that final ledge.

There isn’t time for that kind of play now, though. Not in this crowded ship with only a handful of hours remaining until drop. Later, when they reach Polus and have a few weeks of leave to enjoy the station’s extra rooms and added privacy, Black will make good use of their time. Very good use.

For now, he settles for coating two fingers with a generous amount of spit and yanking down Red’s shorts to tease his entrance. The muscles flex and tighten against him at first, but he presses insistently anyway and pushes in as Red gasps and twitches undecidedly beneath him.

He doesn’t spend as much time as he knows he should working Red open. He doesn’t want to be cruel, but he does want Red to feel this. He wants the man to ache tomorrow, to know he’s been claimed, and when they do get the chance to do this again the right way, he wants Red to understand, irrevocably, that he is owned.

He slathers more spit and wets his cock as best he can before shifting and pushing in, grunting from the effort. Red tenses beneath him and unbidden, breathless whimpers trickle from the man’s mouth as his body stretches to accommodate. Black presses his forehead against Red’s taught, arched back, focusing on his breathing.

“I’m good,” Red chokes out after a moment, emphasizing his words by rocking against Black and taking him in even deeper.

“Yes, you are,” Black agrees, his own voice a little strained. He nips Red’s trembling shoulder and starts to move, a languid rocking motion that makes them both groan helplessly and sends pleasure skittering across oversensitive nerves. 

Black straightens, holding Red firmly by the hips and taking in the delicious view of his cock slowly sliding in and out of the flushed and writhing man beneath him. The sight elicits something primal in Black, an apex predator staring down at his weakened, defenseless prey. His body moves on its own, pulling out and slamming back in, grinding against the soft flesh and drinking in the muffled shouts that Red tries to keep in by pressing a hand over his mouth.

Not one to be denied, Black quickly bats Red’s hand away. “I want to hear you,” he growls, but Red does it again, over and over, until Black pins the offending arm against the small of Red’s back and holds it there. Red arches into it in a way that is pleasantly telling.

His thrusts become harder, faster, and Red starts moving in sync, gasping and groaning as he visibly starts to come undone. He arches deeper, and Black uses his free hand to lift the man upright so they are back to chest, Red’s arm pinned between them.

By some unspoken agreement, he winds his arm around Red’s throat and squeezes. The noises his human makes nearly drive him wild, and he hears his own rough, desperate groans punching their way from his chest in time with each slamming thrust. Releasing his neck, Black coaxes Red to lift one knee to the desk, spreading him wider and helping to balance them both. The unrelenting pace takes him still deeper and Black hears the sounds coming from Red heighten with desperation. He wants to gorge himself on this, on Red, on stuffing him full and conquering him completely. Nothing matters anymore except this – nothing. Black’s mission, his people, the Council – all of it seems so unimportant when compared to this shivering, tantalizing man.

As spasms start to crawl along his spine and his body begins to seize, the realization dawns on him that he is never going home. With Orange gone, there is no one to report him and the failed mission back to the Council. He has a chance to disappear. They might look for him, eventually, maybe, but what is one wayward soul in the legion they have at their disposal? He won’t be missed.

Besides, he’s had enough suffering and pain. Centuries of it, in fact. Possibly more if you count by human years. He’s owed a bit of pleasure.

Red suddenly comes apart in his arms with a shout, shaking and clinging to Black’s arms in an effort to stay upright as his legs seemingly give out beneath him. His straining cock shoots spurts of hot white cum onto the Comms equipment. Black’s eyes nearly roll back into his head as Red tightens painfully around him. He thrusts once, twice, three more times before he’s coming hard too, senses whiting out as his body seizes with wave after wave of pain-gilded pleasure.

Black somehow manages to hold them both upright, taking most of Red’s weight as he drops his knee from the desk. Black’s cock, softening now, slides out from the change in position and they both wince. Red huffs and twists his head just enough to see Black from the corner of his eye.

“I think we made it worse,” he says, grimacing. Black frowns, confused, only to snort when Red gestures lazily at the cum-drizzled equipment. “I’m not fixing that.”

He presses the sly curve of a grin against Red’s sweat-damp hairline. “Sabotage suits you.”

* * *

When they finally reach Polus the surviving crewmates are ushered into a conference room and debriefed by some no-name lawyer that represents _MIRA_ and reminds them all of their contract, specifically the section that apparently swears them to eternal secrecy about extraterrestrial lifeforms.

They sign a bunch of paperwork, turn in their accident reports, and hand over the _Skeld_ to the repair crew. Red and Black remain absolutely stone faced as said repair crew replace all the equipment in Comms due to some kind of defect that evidently dispatched to HQ a sound file that blasted pornographic noises during a safety check. They maintain innocence and wordlessly volunteer together to join the next crew scheduled to ship out once repairs are finished.

Eventually, they manage to find some privacy among the bookshelves in Admin. Red happily indulges Black’s insatiable appetite and doesn’t concern himself with how Black occasionally looks as if he wants to eat Red for breakfast. Everyone is a little strange in the beginning of new relationships. There is a lot of learning to be done for the both of them, and Red is looking forward to the challenge.

Starting with figuring out exactly how Black’s eyes manage to glow in the dark.


End file.
